


221B: Bitter

by mydwynter



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Humour, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydwynter/pseuds/mydwynter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I am going to murder you."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Don't be ridiculous. We're fine, John."</i>
</p><p>When it's cold, clearly the best idea is to disrobe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	221B: Bitter

"I am going to murder you."

"Don't be ridiculous. We're fine, John."

They weren't fine. Sherlock's bravado (idiocy) had gotten them stuck in a snowdrift somewhere near the Scottish border, someone (Sherlock) had broken the climate control, and someone else (John) had accidentally discarded the ice scraper when he'd packed the car.

Snow was rapidly covering the windows. It was _freezing_.

In the span of an hour and a half they'd had a grand total of one screaming argument, two threats of bodily harm, three failed attempts to dig out their slipping tyres, and four aggressive requests to stop making that whistling noise with your nose _for christ's sake._

Finally, John made an elephantine sound of frustration, crawled into the back seat, and started stripping.

"What are you—?" was as far as Sherlock got before John grabbed him and informed him that he needed to join John naked in the back. It took precious little persuasion. A rapidly-denuded Sherlock crawled through and had just begun to lower himself when John slipped out the door with an armful of their clothes. 

"Now back up slowly," John called, tucking clothing under the slipping wheels as Sherlock gibbered in horror. But their noble sartorial sacrifice was not, it seemed, in vain, for with that added traction the iced-up tyres began to bite.


End file.
